Gift of Freedom
by SydGillyKC
Summary: What we didn't see after Mulder left the hospital in "Emily," and when he found out about her death. Please R/R, it's my first posted fic!


Title: Gift of Freedom  
  
Author: SydGillyKC (XGIRL333@aol.com)  
  
Rating: G  
  
Disclaimer: The characters aren't mine. Don't sue!  
  
Authors Notes: I've been writing fanfiction for years, but never posted anything. I have a bunch of stories written, and figured I'd post this one (probably my shortest one, they're usually a lot longer) as a trial piece. I thought I'd start out short and sweet lol. So please please please review and let me know what you think. This was written about two years ago, so it's not my best writing, but let me know what you think anyways. After I get some feedback, I'll decide whether I should keep posting or not (I've got some XF and Alias fics in the works). Thanks!  
  
  
  
  
  
You never know how much you want something until you know you can't have it. That's exactly what I told my mother when I told her that I wasn't able to have children. And yet here I am, sitting beside my own child, but not for much longer. My Emily, comatose and dying, her condition hastened by the men who created her. And it may be true that I never really gave birth to her, and that the only reason she is my child is because she was "created" from my egg, but she is still my child, my daughter. I've only known her a few short weeks, but I love her as much as a mother can possibly love their child. I never got to feel her growing within me, or hear her first word, or watch her first step, or comfort her when she cried. The only milestone I will get to witness of my daughter's life will be the most painful one of all: her death. She's only three, and such a beautiful little girl, but there's nothing to be done anymore. She wasn't meant to be. She was brought into this world to be tested on and be put through a life of pain and illness. There was no one to love my little girl until I found her. And she might never really know who her true mother is, but I pray that she knows that I love her, and that she's my miracle, no matter how complicated and painful this whole ordeal has been. I was told I would never have a child, but I have one. She may not be your ordinary little girl, but she is a little girl none-the-less, and she is my little girl, and I love her. She was put here only to die after giving these men the information they needed, but the few weeks that I was able to spend with my own daughter were the most blessed weeks of my life. I was able to feel something inside of me that I thought I would never be able to feel. I was able to know a mother's love at least for this short time. And now I will know of a mother's loss when I lose her. My baby. I would give anything to be able to let her live, but that would be selfish. She deserves to be free after all this pain, and I'm glad that I could give her that one gift. I'm glad that I could give her the gift of love, and I was able to love her enough to let her go, so she would be released from the pain. I know that she will no longer be put through numerous tests, or treatments, or times of loneliness, but I can't help wanting her to stay with me, so I can finally fulfill the dream of having my own child. My dream lived only a very short time on this earth, but she had such a great effect, especially on me. She's given me a reason to hope, and a reason to keep searching for the truth, because I have to find justice for what they did to my baby girl.  
  
And now I sit here and watch her every breath, hoping that each one will not be her last. Although I know that she must leave me soon, I want to prolong each and every moment I have with my daughter, because they are moments that I was sure I would never have. And even through the pain they are causing me, I feel such a love that could keep me going for so long. I just fear how this love may be altered to deep pain when she has to die, which I know will be sometime before sunrise. She weakens with every second, and her life grows shorter. A life so young yet so complicated, and so painful. I only hope that I brought happiness to her in the love that I gave her for the last few weeks of her life. And I know now that it's not because of me that she has to die, but that I am the one who is setting her free. It is not because of me, but from me. The most wonderful gifts come in the strangest forms sometimes. No mother would ever think that letting her three-year-old die would be a gift of love, but I know that it is. Because my daughter will finally have a freedom that she has never known. And a love that she barely got to know.  
  
"Emily. I'm not sure if you can hear me, sweetie, but I hope that somehow you'll be able to understand what I'm saying to you. I know things have been tough, but they won't be anymore. Things are going to be just fine from now on. And if in your life there was ever a time that you felt that your family didn't love you, then don't worry. Sweetie, I am your mother, and I love you more than anything, and I needed you to know that, even if you'll never be with me to realize it on your own. Just know that your mother loved you, and it was because of that love that I have to let you go, but I promise you that there will be no more pain for you. And when you feel like you have to let go, don't be afraid, everything will be okay. I love you, sweetie." I feel tears brimming in my eyes, and I lean down to kiss Emily on the forehead. It's so hard to let her go. I don't know how. God, please understand that I'm doing the best that I can.  
  
And then I look at her one more time, and she's suddenly different. Everything about this girl suddenly just sinks in. This is my daughter. This is the little girl that I gave the gift of life to. Her soft golden hair, her deep blue eyes, her little lips, and every beautiful feature of her was from me. I gave this girl the three things that a mother is able to give to her daughter: life, love, and freedom. Unfortunately, the freedom is a thing that some mothers don't have to give, at least not in the way that I have to. I envy those mothers who spend half their lives watching their children grow, and dying, knowing that their children will carry on their memory. How I would love to have that for my daughter, and myself, but that's impossible. Emily may get another chance in Heaven, but I will not. I will live with the pain and memories of my lost daughter for the rest of my life. I only pray that I may one day be set free to see her again, and be able to experience that happiness that I couldn't in this life.  
  
Her heartbeat is slowing. It won't be long now. She will finally be free. I hold her tiny hand within mine, and look at how painfully small it is. Every bit of her is so small. Her life was so small. And as I watch her breathe her final breath, I feel an emptiness set in my heart. The loud beep from the heart monitor sounds, and I know that my daughter has left me, and that I have just lost my only chance at ever having a child. I see doctors and nurses rush in, and they gather around her bed. I see one of them reach for the paddles to try to bring her back, but I can't stand the thought of bringing her back to this pain. I won't stand for that.  
  
"No. Please, just let her go. There's nothing left for her here," I beg of them. I know that there are tears streaming down my face, and I just hope that they are able to see the need inside of me. The need to let my daughter go.  
  
"Time of death is 11:21 PM." And I know she is gone.  
  
************************************************************************  
  
And now, I'm driving in my car, not really aware of anything, but the thoughts running rapidly through my head, and the terrible emptiness in my heart. I knew that this was inevitable, but I didn't know that it would feel this awful. I arrive at my brother's house, and see that no one is home. I sit down on my bed, but with no intentions of sleeping. Sleep would undoubtedly be impossible tonight. So here I am, left alone with my thoughts and my memories and my pain. I'm aware that there are still tears running down my face but I'm too numb to feel them. I'm too numb to feel anything. I know I should call Mulder and tell him, but I can't. I don't want to face the world or anything in it. Everything just seems too much right now. Calling and telling my mother was hard enough. I know that my family is sad for me, but they could never imagine the pain that I feel right now. Especially not with Tara having just given birth to Matthew. It's so unfair. Tara is in the hospital right now probably holding and comforting her baby, her child, and making preparations to go home and start a new life with her son. And then there's me. I just left the hospital, and my child, and I have to now make arrangements for her funeral. There were no arrangements to be made for her life.  
  
Suddenly, a knock at my door tears me away from my thoughts, and I'm almost grateful. Almost. I'm not in any mood to face anyone right now, but I get up and go to the door anyway. I look out the peephole, suddenly not minding answering the door. I open it to find him there, looking very sympathetic. I know he sees that I have been crying, and I just don't care anymore. And I suddenly wonder why he's here, or how he even knows that I am here. He must see the confusion on my face.  
  
"Your mom called me. She told me that I might want to come and see how you were doing," he explains as he enters and I shut the door behind him. I nod at him, not knowing what to say. How am I doing? Not even I could put that one into words, but he's going to make me try to, and I know it.  
  
"So how are you doing?" He persists, not surprising me at all. There's a silence as I try to think of a good answer. None come to mind. I know that I could give him my usual "I'm fine," but I'm just can't be the strong one right now. The truth is, I don't feel strong at all.  
  
"I don't know what to say, Mulder," I respond, and for once the truth actually follows that question.  
  
"When did it happen?" He asks.  
  
"About an hour ago," I tell him.  
  
He nods sadly, obviously at a loss of words also. And that was my mistake. In saying that, I had allowed myself to think back and remember it all. I felt the tears building up in my eyes again, and then falling down my face. I dropped my head with the small hope of being able to cover it up. No such luck. He noticed my sudden action, and realized what it meant. And he suddenly closed the distance between us and wrapped his arms around me, as I did the same. His chin rested on my head, and I began to softly cry into him. I felt him kiss the top of my head, and I heard him whisper, "I'm so sorry, Scully." But I didn't respond, because my tears were still steadily flowing. And I was suddenly glad that I had him to comfort me. There are so many people out there who search for someone exactly like him, to be their person to "lean on," but I had already found mine. And I think that being with him now, and being able to draw on his strength is easing the pain a little. I know that tomorrow this incident will be forgotten and never brought up again, but I might as well enjoy it while I have it. I realize that I have just lost my daughter, and in losing that life, I have lost part of my own, but standing here, in Mulder's arms helps me to realize that there are other parts of my life that I have to move on with, and I know that he will be here whenever I need him. He will always be my strength.  
  
  
  
Ok, that's it. I know it's a little sappy and repetitive, but I felt bad changing and revising it after so many years. Just know my writing's better now (I hope lol). REVIEW!!! Please!!! I'll love you forever! 


End file.
